Quest Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 1) (24 page)

Most ship’s crews refused to sail out far enough to catch the current of the winds, but this time Ramie had paid their price, and then some. The winds’ current could help them reach the Divi River in a mere day, not the weeks it would have taken in normal waters.

His advisors had warned against it, and all had called him mad, but Ramie hadn’t listened. Somehow he knew the Maker’s fates were with him. He knew they would make it through the winds’ currents. He just knew.

The misty panel of water rose before him like a sheet of ice. He felt its power and heard its roar. No one knew exactly what the ten winds were, or why, or how they existed, but as close as anyone could tell the ten winds were a thick wall of water rising from the seas to the heavens: a waterfall, no doubt, but one that had no rock or mountain to tumble from. The wall of water had been named the ten winds because of the gusts existing the closer you steered toward it. The winds came from everywhere: north, south, east, west, northeast, northwest, southeast, southwest, up, down, everywhere. No ship could survive the winds, and no ship could sail into the ten winds’ depths and ever sail out again.

Ramie’s ship was only close enough to catch the beginning of the currents. The ship’s crew had to be careful not to steer too far into the winds and keep a tight grip on the controls. If the crew released the wheel the ship would spin into the deadly currents and every person on board would perish.

The ten winds surrounded the Lands, encompassing them in a wall of water. Ramie had often wondered if some sort of magic had put the winds there, but when magic was reborn and nothing had changed he doubted his theory. The ten winds were the ten winds, magic or no magic.

Only marauders or occasional bards ventured into the winds’ outlying currents. Ramie was sure no king had ever tried. He wondered if he would hear a song about his journey in the future. A small smile lit his face. Fraul would tease him unmercifully if a bard ever sang his name.

The ship lurched to the side and a cry of adulation lifted to the Maker. They had broken from the currents and were now venturing to the calm waters of the Divi that would lead them inland to Yor. The ship’s crew began banging on anything they could find, shouting about their deftness against the winds. One of the crew pulled out a flute and began a peppy tune. Others began to dance and sing. The cabin door opened and Ramie turned to see members of his guard resurfacing on deck, faces pale from either sickness or fear, but eyes bright and smiles wide as they clapped along to the tune in celebration of their near-death escape.

Other crewman handed out food and drink. Ramie’s stomach turned. Food was the last thing on his mind. After leaving Zier he had been unable to keep down more than vegetable broth. He had never been queasy before. He had never been scared before. It infuriated him that he felt both queasy and scared now. And it wasn’t the winds that had frightened him. It was magic. May the Maker help them all.

He turned back to the sea. The ship sliced through the still waters, the current of the winds sending it off like a catapult. At least their speed was a small comfort. They would arrive in Byn far sooner than expected. He had been up for days, trying to decide what he should do and how he should do it. He had come to only one conclusion. He was in the midst of one large trap.

Ista had planned her strategy to perfection. She had taken over Zier peacefully and she had done it so well no one could doubt her story. Why have war when you could triumph through skill? Now Ista had the people’s trust, and she had created something that couldn’t be controlled: people’s hunger to learn the Quy.

The internal power inside him was a constant feather brushing his conscious, incessant and demanding. Ramie found himself yearning to touch the feather and feel its power alive and burning inside him. Others would feel the same, and they would flock to Ista.

One wrong move and he would be opposing her without any knowledge of the Quy or how to defend his family or his lands. He would stall for as long as he could, but sooner or later he would have to choose a side. Until then, the people would be restless. They would want to leave for Zier and he would deny them. He would have to think of a bloody fine excuse to forbid the people’s passage. One false move on his part would cause Ista to retaliate. How? He didn’t know and that scared him most of all. He was up against something he had no idea how to fight. Give him a sword and lead him to battle with something tangible. But magic? A shiver went down his spine.

He patted his coat, assuring himself the message was still with him. He had written it himself. Normally he had one of the advisors draft his messages, but he was unsure of whom to currently trust. An image of the needles flashed through his mind. Ramie inwardly cringed. How many did Ista control? How many were in Yor?

Ramie looked to the horizon. The city of Byn topped a small rise overlooking the sea. Farther inland, the rugged peaks of the Jaguar mountain range dominated the landscape. Ramie drew a deep breath, gathering his courage.

During his sleepless nights he had been unable to form a plan to help his kingdom, but he had decided on a course of action to help Ren, or so he thought. Not only would Ren be hunted by Ista, he would also be hunted by Druids.

There was only one man who would dare oppose the Druids.

Chapter 13

They were over the Sierras and well on their way to the Cliffs. Although cover was a concern, for the rolling hills leading to Crape had few trees, the men’s spirits were up.

Galvin left the group every degree of the sun to double back and check for any sign of pursuit. He said he was just being cautious, but Ren saw the concern in his eyes. Ren felt it as well. Ista should have discovered their trail by now. He had trouble believing Ista was so easily fooled.

Aidan was constantly on his mind. Whenever he read the prophecy his gut twisted into knots. Destroy the silver form, it said. In a way, he supposed he had. Any type of merging altered the beings involved. But the more he read the prophecy the more he thought it referred to something more, something in the future. The joining of Aidan’s body with her spirit had been an instinctive reaction. He never doubted what he had to do or how he had to do it. The prophecy said, “If he couldn’t.” The “if” indicated a conscious decision, not instinct.

A sheer scream caused him to turn. Markum sat on the back of his horse, face twisted in anguish. As Markum’s horse reared Galvin caught the reins, steadying the terrified creature. The others drew their swords, searching for whatever had caused Markum’s distress.

Ren dropped to the ground, concerned. “Markum?”

When Markum’s eyes cleared, color rose to his cheeks. “It’s Sass, Ren.”

Ren blinked in confusion. “My cousin? What do you mean?”

“She’s dead.”

Renee drew a sharp breath. Ren opened his mouth to speak but no words came. Had he heard Markum right? “How do you know?”

Markum let the question hang in the air. Ren could sense his terror. Then Ren instantly knew why Markum liked to keep to himself, why Markum shunned close human contact, and why he buried himself in books.

Markum was a seer. Ren could almost see the visions dancing in Markum’s eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Markum shook his head. “Would you have believed me?”

Ren opened his mouth to speak but quickly thought better of it. Now, with magic’s rebirth, prophecies and visions were easy to believe. But before? He was ashamed to say he would have been doubtful. Markum saw the truth in Ren’s eyes and offered him a forgiving smile before describing the shriveled, blackened man he had seen, Sass’s terror, and her ultimate sacrifice.

Ren closed his eyes. “The Reaper.”

Neki peered between Ren and Markum with unsteady eyes. “What’s the Reaper?”

Markum cleared his throat. “The Reaper is a magical being. He’s a small man, only about waist high, but when he sings he can appear to be anyone or anything you desire. The only way he stays alive is to feed off others, or essentially drain another’s life.”

Renee put a hand to her mouth as her eyes welled with tears. Ren put his arm around her, trying to give her some small comfort.

As the grassy fields shivered in the breeze, Ren tried to concentrate on his mother, but his mind kept imagining the Reaper with Sass. Gritting his teeth, he let out a slow breath.

“Is it a year for a year?” Neki finally asked.

“No one knows,” Markum said. “Sometimes the Reaper isn’t heard from for decades, other times it’s years or days. I don’t know if the Reaper takes a year for a year, some fractional amount, or some other formula.

“All anyone knows is to avoid the forest that appears between Zier and Ketes. That’s the only place the Reaper has ever been seen. The forest appears huge, wide in every direction and impossible to circumvent, but it’s all an illusion. If you steer from it, it only takes a degree of the sun to bypass. The Reaper’s magic is what causes you to see something more.”

“May the Maker have mercy,” Ren said, “how could the Reaper be reborn? The Reaper isn’t a bread of creature, Markum. It is one being.”

Markum exchanged a worried glance with Michel. “We discussed the possibilities of magical creatures reappearing when you went to see Grauss. I don’t know if the wizards could have distinguished between a breed of creature or an isolated magical being. Although many creatures were feared, others were loved and cherished.”

“Like the Avenger,” Ren said, thinking about the stories he had read as a child. He had always loved the Avenger’s righteous judgments. He had always prayed to the Maker to be as discerning as the Avenger when he inherited the throne.

Michel brushed back his sun-bleached hair. “In other words, when the wizards unleashed magic’s destruction they probably wove another underlying emotional weave with that destruction, one that would call to those things destroyed in the Wizard War when the thread of the power was reformed. Now that magic’s alive, magical creatures like the Reaper will begin to appear.”

“All of them?” Although Quinton’s voice was calm, his eyes betrayed him.

“I don’t think they could have distinguished between those feared and those loved,” Markum said. “I think the Reaper is proof we can’t rule out anything.”

Ren stared in the direction of Ketes, horrified. Sass was an innocent child. How could the Maker allow such a thing? Anger burned in his gut. He turned back to Markum. The seer was already watching him.

“Have you had any more visions?”

Markum nodded. “I’ve seen the One you seek.”

Ren gripped Markum’s arm. “Where?”

Markum shook his head. “In a lake, in a forest, he could be anywhere, Ren. But he’s real.”

Ren closed his eyes, overcome with relief mingled with fear. Until then he hadn’t known he doubted the truth of the prophecy. He still couldn’t understand his role in the darkness or how he could stop it. The One was the key.

Ren turned and looked in the distant foothills of the Cliffs of Crape. Their rocky form rose in stark contrast to the plains. Under the darkening sky the small trees jutting over the sides of the cliffs looked like spiked weapons, warning all away. The Cliffs were rarely visited. Most travelers steered days out of their way to avoid becoming trapped amidst their haunted caverns. The Cliffs’ constant winds created shrill cries so eerie many would swear they heard children’s screams from leagues away.

Ren suddenly realized those tales were probably true. He was sure Ista’s camp was never without screams of torture. Ren vowed once again to stop the woman. What she had done to Tol was unforgivable. What she had done to Aidan she would die for.

He wanted to push on and reach Ista’s camp, but they all needed a good night’s rest before they undertook the Cliffs. He didn’t know how long it would take to find the One, and he didn’t know how long it would take for Ista to unlock the Red Eye’s power, but he also knew his men’s limits. After Markum’s vision, approaching the Cliffs would only emphasize the dangers the quest may hold.

They were in a large clearing with distant trees surrounding them on three sides. It was a good place to make camp. They didn’t need to be surprised by any magical creature. The clearing would provide them ample warning if something approached. As soon as Ren motioned for everyone to dismount, he sensed the men’s gratitude.

They erected the camp in a sun’s click: bedrolls undone, blankets unfolded, fire lit, horses brushed, food prepared. Neki even hummed as he sharpened his saber. Galvin commented that if Neki sharpened the sword any longer he might sharpen the blade clear off the hilt. There were a few chuckles, and for the first time since Markum’s vision Ren felt his muscles relax.

Ren turned to watch his mother unpack her bedroll. After the story of the Reaper, Renee looked fearful. Her eyes darted around for any sign of danger. Ren knew he needed to send his mother to safety, Marva and Tol with her. The wilderness was no place for them, especially with magic’s rebirth.

After the evening meal of stew and dried berries, Ren called the men to him. He nodded to Bentzen. “At first light I want you to ride to Ketes. Do what you can to help Bostic create a force to counter Ista. Take Renee, Marva and Tol with you. Be as quick as you can, but be wary of everything. The Reaper isn’t the only creature that’s been reborn.”

Bentzen drew in a breath, disappointment in his eyes, but when he looked at Tol he nodded with understanding. Ren felt slightly nervous about sending Tol with his mother and Marva, but the silver band did seem to block Ista’s hold. Although he was taking a risk, it was slight.

“I’ve been having dreams about wolven, Ren,” Markum said as he looked toward the Cliffs, a worried glint in his eyes. “In magical times wolven thrived on the Cliffs, and if Ista is as shrewd as we believe, she could have laid a trap for us. I think we should split up. A few of us should ride to the camp while you and the others ride toward the Alcazar.

“I’ll go,” Neki said. “I’m not tired. I could ride tonight and be back by morning.”

Ren shook his head. “Wolven thrive at night, Neki. Now isn’t the time to approach the Cliffs.” He glanced at Markum. The seer was still staring off in the distance, a frown dominating his amiable features. Something was different about Markum, something Ren could almost touch. Where before Markum stood in the shadows, now he dared to venture into the light. His dreams were taking over, forcing him to become the protector of the group. Tonight he would ask Markum more about his dreams.